Read Online Megan Frampton by Hero of My Heart - Free Book Online Page A

the breadth and strength of them underneath her hand. He might be an aristocrat, but he certainly wasn’t soft. The opposite, in fact; everything about him was hard, his muscles, his body, his demeanor, his—well, everything.
    Mary squeezed her eyes shut as she moved her hand lower down his back, feeling the muscles flex as he responded to her touch. He was still hot, the fabric of his shirt damp from perspiration. Did he have a fever? And if he did, could she find—but no, she didn’t want to think too much, she just wanted to feel, feel desired, and wanted, and—
    “Damn,” he said, raising his head and burying it in her neck. She could feel his body start to shake.
    “What is it?” she asked, her voice muffled by his shoulders.
    He shook his head as though he were brushing off her question. She felt his fingers start their clever movement again between her legs, and she was lost, forgetting completely about what might be wrong.
    Because everything was wrong, and yet it was also right.
    Right to be here, with him, in this bed, with him touching her. Suddenly, he yanked at her gown and tried to pull it over her head. “Get this off, will you? I want to see you, all of you.” He raised himself to his knees and rested his hands on his thighs, waiting with an impatient look on his face.
People do what I say
, that look said.
    Why did it now feel as if she should do everything he demanded, when half an hour ago she’d argued with everything he said? Never mind; she would deal with her lackof gumption later, when her body wasn’t clamoring for more. She lifted up onto her elbows, and tugged the gown over her head. A few of the buttons stuck, and she undid them quickly, twisting her hands behind her back as she unfastened each small circle. At last, it was off, and she tossed it to the floor.
    “Good,” he said in satisfaction, his green eyes devouring her as much as his mouth had. He lifted his own shirt off, still staring at her, and tossed it into the corner of the room.
    Mary gasped when she saw him. His chest was broad, strong, and muscled, but had an ugly mass of scar tissue running from just above his nipple to his collarbone.
    “Were you injured?” she asked, then shook her head in annoyance. “Of course you were, I can see that. How did it happen?”
    “Someone shot me,” he said, still gazing into her eyes.
    “I’m not surprised,” she said with a smile. She reached her fingers out and touched the gnarled skin; it was ridged with scars, and he flinched when she trailed her fingers down to his nipple.
    And then took a deep, satisfied breath as she kept working her way down.
    What are you doing?
her mind screamed.
Feeling pleasure
, she yelled back.
    His chest was broad, and well muscled, with a sprinkling of dark hair on the upper part. The hair ended just where his abdomen began, and Mary could see the definition of the muscles in his stomach.
    His breeches began just where another line of hair began, a tantalizing trail down toward the part that Mary had felt pressed up against her. His erection was making a tent of his trousers, and she swallowed a little as she thought about what Amelia had told her.
    She’d been horrified at the time, but now she was grateful to her friend for disclosing so much.
    “Stop thinking,” he commanded, lowering his body back onto hers. He reached his fingers up to play with one of the curls in her hair, apparently engrossed in watching it spring back to its spiral shape. “This is good. Doesn’t it feel good, love?” His voice was a seductive caress in her ear.
    Mary stroked his back, his smooth, warm flesh, then turned her head away from him and lay still.
    “You can’t stop thinking,” he said in a quiet voice. Her heart ached at how weary he sounded. He pulled himself off her and leaned his hands on his thighs again. “You’re right. I did promise, didn’t I? Well,” he said with a sardonic smile, “you can see just how much faith you can put in my